My Forgotten Love
by x emmalisa x
Summary: Marcus looks back on his forgotten lover, and the pain of her loss. Also helps to explain why he dislikes his father and son. Please review x x
1. Looking back

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I wrote this from Marcus' point of view and memories, and due to the fact his love is no longer remembered or acknowledged by anyone else, I referred to his love as "her" until the end. I hope you like it. x

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**...Marcus...**

**My ****Forgotten Love**

Prologue:

Lost loved ones are impossible to forget.

To Marcus, forgetting his one true love would be like voluntarily forgetting to breathe. He had loved. Once.

Completely.

No one had ever been able to reach him as she had.

The acceptance.

The unconditional acceptance of true love had never before her, or since, been available to him.

He swore he could not remember a time he had not loved her.

She was always in his thoughts, his dreams.

He lay his head down within his new casket and knew with infinite emotion she would always haunt him till the day he died.

The new proposed alternating leadership of the Elders suited him fine, he no longer could bear looking upon Maryann, his wife, or the offspring she had miraculously conceived.

He hated her, and despised her every breath she took, as it was not fair to him, that Maryann lived and _she_ was dead.

_She_ was never acknowledged by the coven, she was seen as his dirty secret.

His old life were he had walked among humans.

His secret life he would have walked through the fires of hell itself to keep forever.

Life is cruel he mused.

To find love, to find acceptance and then lose it all was beyond devilry.

That fateful night his dreams where shattered along with his soul.

He knew he no longer had a heart, he had long ago given it to her. But, it was his soul that felt the despair of her and their unborn son's loss.

The emptiness that was now eternity, stretched out before him and he felt like weeping.

There would be no death or redemption.

He would live for eternity haunted by her presence, kept company by a wife he hated, a son he despised and a father who wanted him dead.

He laughed cruelly.

This was as it had always been.

No. It had not always been this way for him.

The stolen minutes, the sacred hours with her had been different.

He had _felt_ and he had _lived._

The ceremony was drawing to a close, he would now sleep till his awakening.

Maryann placed a chaste, cold kiss upon his cheek and raised their son into her arms to do the same.

Neither kiss reached beyond the skin, neither made him feel anything.

The lid of his casket was slid into place. Darkness and silence would be his only companion.

His only companion to indulge in his fantasies.

Here, he could be alone with her memory, alone with his thoughts.

He wondered if they would ever meet again.

_Is there a heaven for someone like me?_

If there was he knew what his heaven would look like.

Mahogany brown curls of silk, slim yet feminine features, large sapphire eyes, and a mouth of heated velvet.

He remembered her kiss, her tears, her laugh.

He remembered her death with painful accuracy.

But, he refused to dwell there. Not now. He wanted peace.

He would remember their love…

500 years ago: The first time he had laid eyes on _her_.

She had been small of frame, so small in fact, when the door had been opened and she had been announced he believed her to be a child or a young teenager at most.

He had been surprised when she had pulled back the hood of a violet riding clock that intelligent, wise eyes of dark blue shone at him.

And her eyes did shine.

She seemed to have a glow radiating from her, from her very soul.

She had been covered in dust from the travelling she must have done, and was clearly fatigued.

He was looking at his new step mother.

This was the women his father had chosen to stand at his side.

He knew the marriage was not to be consummated, he had heard his father telling an old friend he had no intention of betraying his late wife's memory, he had only married this small women to maintain appearances.

His status required a wife, if only in name.

She had looked so small he had never expected her to be as strong as she was.

Marcus didn't know what to make of her at first.

The loss of his mother had never effected him, as he had been too young when she had died to even recall her likeness, but still with the bitter relationship with his father he didn't know how to react to her presence.

Her first year at the castle had been a particularly cold year and the crops had failed due to bad frost, and therefore their had been a risk of famine in some of the smaller villages.

She single-handedly had coordinated a food cart to take and share the food that was available between all the towns under their protection.

The villagers had been in awe of her, although at first they had scorned her.

She was foreign, and many of the villagers believed his father should have chosen a bride from the local villages.

Marcus knew the reason his father had not, he knew it was because the marriage would not be a true marriage, and no father would willingly allow his daughter to enter a unconsummated marriage, it would be seen as a grave insult.

Thus a orphaned foreign women would suit the position without problems.

His father seemed to class his wife as a job position, it entailed receiving a rank, and even a wage, but every time Marcus laid eyes on her he could not see her as just another worker.

He saw something of himself in the quietly strong women.

He knew she was not shy, he also knew she was intelligent and an elegantly spoken women, but she never seemed to engage in social entertainments unless truly necessary.

Much like himself.

Marcus hated the false smiles and devious nature of many of the aristocracy. He knew they only plastered on their false smiles and cheerless laughs to try to gain allegiance and possibly status.

He had lost count of the number of young women who flirted outrageously with him, in clear view of their families encouraging eyes.

He hated that they only approach him to further their wealth or political strength.

Even now he could clearly recall the emotionally turmoil he had been in.

He had known at the time a union between them was out of the question, she was his fathers wife if only in name.

But he couldn't help the emotions that would stir when he saw her.

He had believed her to be a innocent young women taken from everything she knew and plunged into a world of the supernatural.

Marcus had been determined to confront her about his feelings but as soon as he entered his home he received word that he was needed. Marcus, by his fathers orders was a captain in the army and was needed on the border to help with rebels.

He cursed his luck. He wanted to stay but another part of him needed the distance to think.

He had left immediately as he knew he couldn't stay there and not touch her.

The months Marcus stayed away were days full of negotiating and fighting, but at night the battle was a completely different kind. Marcus was wracked nightly by erotic fantasies, dreams of pleasure, he would wake hard and aching for her.

But he knew his body wanted more than the physical pleasure she could grant him, he wanted her heart.

They had always shared a warm friendship but he wanted more, no he needed more. They would often sit in front of the fire, chatting about everything from politics to flowers. He loved to hear her voice. Her voice was clear, soft, every word was spoken as if carefully thought upon.

Finally he could no longer stay away, he could no longer focus on the rebels which where finally dissipating.

He couldn't wake again aching for her. Her touch, her voice, even one glimpse of her would allow him peace.

So he left the border and rode for home at a frantic pace, desperate for a single glimpse to stop his agony...

**Thank you for reading ... :)**

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	2. Love

**Marcus**

**...My Forgotten Love ...**

Chapter two

The castle was empty.

He had checked every room and corridor, every stairwell and outhouse.

He knew this was nothing new for his father to be missing, but her absence sent a shudder of fear through him.

He ran out into the rain and called her name, desperately hoping no ill had befallen her.

He raced towards the stable, but no sign. His heart was beating frantically, and the storm brewing above his head seemed to be as explosive as his growing concern and panic.

What if she was in danger or kidnapped he had thought deliriously.

His frantic searching of the sheds and stables brought no sign of her. And the pure fear he felt made him realise the extent of his attraction.

She was not just a object of lust as others had been before her. He would not be able to sate himself in her arms and the attraction would dissipate.

This was a more permanent emotion. Love.

As he paced rapidly back to the castle he finally saw her.

Sitting on a seat on the western corner of the extensive gardens.

That area was surrounded by blossom trees so he had been unable to see her at first. Now, however he could make out her silhouette in the lightning flashes.

Was she sick?

He ran towards the blossom trees and fell to his knees before her, to cup her small and delicately boned face in his large hands. He gazed into her eyes and saw tears. He felt each tear drop like a knife to the gut. His heart ached.

"My lady are you unwell?" he had managed to choke out. He had ridden hard for days to get home to see just a glimpse of her, and his voice was unused.

She had fallen into his embrace and wept uncontrollable in his arms. Marcus had been at a loss. No one had ever given him comfort and he had never returned any.

Of course he had had lovers but they had been only after the status they thought such a union would bring and had been cold and unfeeling in their attentions.

This was a situation he was unprepared for, although the feel of her wrapped tightly in his embrace was not such an unwelcome dilemma.

He may not have any experience in offering comfort but for her he was willing to learn. He lifted her more fully into his arms, cradling her face to his chest and carried her towards the warmth of the house.

He had nearly stumbled when he felt her place a kiss to the exposed skin in the collar of his tunic. And had had to stifle a curse when she replaced the kiss with a small lick.

This wasn't real, he knew she was upset and that must have caused the attention she was giving him.

But it didn't matter why, he was near euphoric with the situation.

He carried her to the great hall and sat her upon the large banquet table in front of the large fireplace. He once again knelt to cup her face. Her tears had finally dried, but she was so cold he could visibly see her shivering.

He wanted to wrap his own clock around her but it was drenched by his ride here and the search for her.

Instead he removed the top layers of her wet garments and rubbed her arms to try to heat her.

After several minutes, one of her small hands had reached up to cup his check and her thumb had rubbed over his lips sensuously.

He couldn't help himself holding her cold hand to his lips to kiss her open palm. The smile he received due to his reaction caused his heart to skip a beat.

She shone.

There was no other way to describe how she looked. Her hair was beginning to dry so was curling wildly, creating a silken border for two beautiful eyes that gazed at his with such warmth and tenderness he was momentarily stunned beyond words.

As if watching his actions from afar he seemed to have had no control over his body. He leaned in and had his first taste of her lips. Her kiss was innocently gentle at first, he licked and gently nipped her rose lips till they allowed him access.

Her mouth was better than even his most fevered fantasies. Hot and as soft as velvet. She had clenched the muscles in his shoulders as he pulled her more tightly into his embrace.

He knew on a subconscious level he should pull away but he couldn't.

He knew now that even if he had realised the extent of his love for her at that moment and the pain of her loss, he still would have kissed her.

The love she gave him and the warmth and compassion was worth the pain he felt, he still wished however it was he who was dealt the brunt of the punishment for their union but he would never change his decision. He could never have pulled away from the burning passions she ignited within him.

He treaded his fingers into her curling locks as he held her through their kiss.

He didn't want to scare her but he needed to taste and feel her. He hesitantly allowed his tongue to lap gently upon hers. Her gasp of surprise was caught within their kiss.

His head spun with the sensations and he repeated the tentative exploration. When she returned the kiss with a hesitant lick of her own he groaned. He moved his hand slowly from her hair down the side of her neck till he rested his heated palm just above her breast.

He allowed her to feel the heat of his hand before he slowly descended till he could graze his thumb back and forth across her nipple. Her moan had her back arching and pressing her body more firmly against his.

He allowed his passions to overcome him and threw caution to the wind. He needed her with a ferocity that astounded him, he had wanted her since the moment he had met her and the feel of her returning his attentions with equal passion would be both their undoing.

He removed the last of her drenched garments and didn't know if she shivered with the cold or her passions. He removed his own tunic and trews and stood to draw her into his embrace.

She initiated their kissing once more as he carried her slight body to the fireplace.

He wanted to make love to her now, in the light and heat of the fire light.

The storm outside no longer seemed to be charged by the fear of earlier, but from the passion and promise of their union. He lay her upon the floor and took a moment to memorise her image.

She was panting from their kiss, and made no attempt to cover herself from his heated gaze. Her still damp hair had fallen around her perfect face and was like a dark halo next to the gray stone floor.

Her body was slightly damp also from her drenched clothes, but this only caused the lines, curves and hollows of her body to be highlighted more by the flickering fire light.

He trailed his index finger from her neck, down between the valley of her breasts to her slim waist. He leaned down and kissed along her stomach, as a wave of possessive tendencies rode him.

He wanted his child to grow here, he thought deliriously as he rubbed his cheek against her stomach.

In that moment he remembered their situation.

If his father changed his mind about their marital situation…

Marcus froze. He couldn't live with such a situation. If he made her his this night, he wanted no other to know her as intimately as he would, he didn't want her to conceive another's child.

The thought of her and his father caused him to lift his face from her belly and leave her on the floor as he rushed from the room.

He was consumed with unspent lust, rage and pain.

He wanted her, needed her but it could never be.

He had punched the wall repeatedly as he headed for his chambers.

How could he sleep with his fathers wife?

He hated his father and had a feeling the feeling was mutual, but it was unmoral. He couldn't. But God how he wanted to!

Just remembering her kiss made him curse in agony and again strike the wall.

His father had ruined everything. His childhood, his relationship with his beloved twin. Separating him and William was like removing an arm, a constant ache that reminding him his twin was in a tower on their other estate being "controlled".

This was no different. He needed her, and his father was the obstacle.

He wished in that moment he had the power to kill his father. He had the will to do it. Too many times Marcus had cowered in corners with his twin during their youth, too many times he had been called vile names because he was born different.

She had been his only friend, his only companion beside William and both where being denied him.

He fell to his knees as emotions so violent he shock from them coursed through his veins.

He wept as his pain and torment came back afresh. He couldn't stay like this. He wanted tenderness, he wanted love. But he wanted it for solely him, he would not share.

Marcus knelt with his head in his hands.

Marcus wished he could marry her but a agreement between his father and another noblemen had made Marcus' betrothed Maryann Van Keen.

He had never met her but he had heard she was a great beauty.

He had been happy to agree to the insanity at the time, as he was only 16 then. But now he wished he had thought it through.

Not that saying anything against the union would have helped, his father wanted the allegiance so naturally his father would get it, regardless of Marcus' feelings.

Marcus lay in his casket thinking back to that moment. He wished he had just taken her far away and married her.

Marcus lay as he recalled their first union...


	3. Passion

**Marcus**

**...My Forgotten Love...**

Chapter Three

He had not returned to her that night, although he could hear her crying in her chambers throughout the night which had been a unimaginable hell.

He had tried to stay out of her way, but couldn't drag himself away from watching her from afar.

His father had sent a messenger to the castle informing Marcus he would be returning within the month.

That night was the Van Keen annual ball, a usually over lavish affair, that seemed to be an advertisement for every type of debauchery known to man, but he knew she was attending as expected and therefore he would go also.

He hated these balls with almost venomous intensity but he would work at seducing her, and trying to make amends for his previous behaviour.

He dressed and purposely walked into her boudoir without announcement. She was only in her corset and undergarments and gasped as he came into the room.

He pretended that the sight of her half dressed didn't effect him as he walked to the bed, upon which lay the dress she had chosen for the occasion. He felt the silken material flow through his hands and despite the colour of the material being pale blue it reminded him of her silken hair.

He lifted the dress and without a word helped her dress.

She had seemed taken aback by his actions, but still angry at him, she had made no comment.

Another thing he loved about her, he mused.

Her fire. She had a temper, but one she managed to usually keep reined in. He leaned closer to whisper into her ear making sure she could hear his laboured breaths as he ran his finger down the curve of her back.

"Beautiful" he murmured absently. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Before she could answer he left her, staring at him through her mirror, lips parted and eyes wide. The carriage ride to the ball was bumpy but he made no attempt at seduction.

He talked to her as he used to, and after a few terse responses she began talking as freely as she used to. He hated that he seemed addicted to her. Her opinion on everything matter to him as nothing else did.

He wanted to know every thought she had, every fantasy. More importantly he wanted to be her every thought, her every fantasy.

And he would be.

He helped her from the carriage and entered the hall of the Van Keens. As usual the decoration for the affair was over the top, red silk hung along the walls, chandeliers of gold and red velvet glowed upon the large domed ceiling of the Van Keens great hall.

The music was robust in nature and had a seductive tune to it. He looked around the hall briefly and spotted the Van Keen's, as was expected he advanced to them. He shook the hand of Arthur Van Keen and was informed Maryann was visiting a friend and had been delayed so would not be present.

Marcus didn't bother to fake concern over Maryann's wellbeing before turning his attention to what he truly desired.

She had moved from her previous vantage and was dancing with a noblemen he didn't recognise.

Jealously filled him.

It was all he could do not to drag the man away from his love and kill him for presuming to touch her, if only in an innocent manner.

Marcus knew she felt for him, he had realised that when he had found her homesick and crying in the rain. The passion she showed him on a banquet table not two days ago could not be acted.

She had desired him enough to offer him her virtue and love, even on a cold stone floor amidst a storm.

He sunk into a overly plush lounge chair and watched man after man dance with her.

He drank quietly in his corner of the hall.

Although it is now uncommon for a vampire to be able to consume any other sustenance than blood, Marcus could consume alcohol and other beverages and even some foods, and so sat watching with jealousy knotting his soul and alcohol dulling his senses, until he could no longer stand the presence of any man near her.

He grabbed her by the arm and steered her towards the exit, regardless of her splutters of outrage.

Once he had dragged her outside he could see no sign of the carriage and was too emotional to search for it, grabbing a horse from a passing stable boy he swung upon the horse positioning her straddling his legs, facing him as he rode for home.

"Marcus! What has gotten into you? You can't just drag me from a hall of nobles, think of what people will think!" At this Marcus saw red. He pulled the horse to a stop and dragged her by the thighs further upon his lap and starred into her eyes.

She stopped spluttering instantly.

"I don't care what they think and neither do you! You danced the whole night with hundreds of men and didn't even give me a second glance. How did you expect me to react?"

"You were jealous?" She asked him tentatively, and to his shock, cupped his cheek as she laid a chaste kiss upon his lips. "I thought you didn't want me?"

He almost laughed at her insanity.

Didn't want her?

He ached for her constantly, he dreamed and breathed for her.

He pulled her more forcefully against the evidence of his arousal and groaned. He wanted her. God how he did.

He felt his hand brush up her silk skirt and felt along her thighs. Her skin was the softest thing he had ever caressed, and he moaned again as she shivered against him.

He rubbed his thumb over the centre of her legs and cursed as he felt the material wetten beneath his touch. Pushing aside the material he finally felt her.

He would always remember that moment, a warm night, just them, no one else.

The sensation of touching her intimately made him feel as if this couldn't be real.

He gently stoked her, and marvelled at the sweet wetness that his touch had created. She was moaning quietly into the night. He began to kiss down her throat and licked her pulse which was beating frantically.

Nothing had aroused him more than stroking her, hearing her cries of encouragement and feeling her pulse beat erratically beneath his mouth.

He would take her there if he didn't get them home. He kept stroking her as he raced towards the castle. The stable boy saw their arrival and rushed out to help.

Marcus couldn't remove her from his embrace, couldn't have removed his hand from such a sweet torment if his life depended on it, he swung form the horse, ignoring the stable boy shocked expression as he saw where Marcus hand was working relentlessly.

She had curled her legs around his waist and allowed him to rush towards their chambers.

He wanted to take her in his room.

Wanted to smell her scent on his linens long after she had left.

He nearly came as she cried out and came beneath his touch.

He pushed open his door not even bothering to close it as he fell onto the bed. He had lost all control, and frantically ripped the silk dress off. He did the same to his own clothes and continued to stroke her towards another orgasm.

She spread her legs wider as he settled between them.

His shaft touched her wet heat and he groaned lowering his head so he could lick and suckle her neck.

God, how much could he stand of this torment!

The feel of her heated skin against his was overpowering.

Marcus couldn't wait for the feel of her anymore, he cradled her precious face between his shaking hands as he kissed her with all the passion he felt, all the tenderness he wished for, and with all his heart.

Eternity seemed to pass as they had laid, entwined on his bed, kissing and exploring.

Marcus stopped the kiss. And starred down at her.

"Are you going to leave again?" She had asked, starring sadly up at him. He knew she feared he would run as he had before, but nothing could stop him from making her his.

"Never, my love" He whispered as he slowly allowed himself to experience heaven.

They had made love for what seemed like hours but after Marcus still felt unsatisfied and wanting more. And it was making love.

They had worshipped each others bodies, with tender kisses and gentle caresses, he had run his hand so gently along the curve of her breast she had shivered uncontrollably.

And they had been burned with their passion.

Over the following days and weeks they where insatiable.

Marcus had never known contentment as he did whenever she fell asleep naked and safe in his arms.

They had made love in the rain. In front of the fire on a cold night.

He had memorised every inch of her precious body and loved her more with each passing moment.


	4. Maryann

**Marcus**

**... My Forgotten Love ...**

Chapter Four

Marcus choked on his emotions.

He remembered those precious days with such intensity, he sometimes wondered if this was all a nightmare, that he would leave this casket and find her laughing in the Great Hall, or sleeping peacefully in his bed.

Instead Maryann was laughing in the Great Hall, Maryann shared his bed, Maryann had birthed his son.

Marcus snarled as he recalled the day he had been forced to marry Maryann.

According to the crowds who had attended, Maryann had looked every inch a queen, wearing a white full length gown decorated with ornamental leaves and flowers. Her blonde hair curling naturally down her slim back.

All Marcus had seen that day was the look on his love's face when it fully dawned on her, he would have to consummate the marriage.

Maryann's father wanted to have her checked the morning after the wedding to ensure it had been done.

Everyone by this point had heard rumours of his affair with his father's wife and many had heard that the marriage between them had not been consummated.

Marcus had left his love, with pain in her eyes. He knew she would be strong and not cry, but it didn't help their predicament. He felt nothing for Maryann. He doubted he could even consummate the marriage without using his imagination that she was his love.

No! He wouldn't do that, however much he didn't want to marry Maryann he knew he had no choice, but he wouldn't even pretend that the passions he contained could be tapped by anyone else.

He knew Maryann's skin would feel wrong against his, he knew she would not smell right, or taste right. He would consummate this union in the same way he would feel about his marriage. Cold. Unfeeling. Passionless.

He had walked to the alter a cold man, the man his father had made him, the man he would always be with Maryann.

The night of their wedding was one of the worst of his existence.

He had bedded Maryann, but unlike his time with his love, there were no kisses, no gentle caresses, he whispered no promises of eternal love and commitment. His heart laid elsewhere.

His heart had already been given.

Maryann was nothing more to him than an obligation he had to fulfil.

As soon as he had consummated the union he had left her immediately, her thighs spread, tears in her eyes. He cared not.

He later remembered the confrontation he had had when Maryann realised she would no longer share his bed.

She had flown into his study, anger shining in her usually smiling eyes.

"Do you have any idea who I am? You refuse to share my bed is insult enough, but to share it instead with that whore…" She had not finished her sentence, he had not allowed her.

With his supernatural speed he had flown at her and slapped her, hard. She fell to the floor, sobbing.

"Never, ever, refer to her as a whore!" He grasped a handful of soft blonde curls to pull her face back so she could see his eyes now glowing with rage. "She is mine! Understand?! You don't want me in your bed, or do you?!" He had roared.

She had shaken her head and sobbed. He had been so furious he had barely heard her whisper "Im pregnant".

Marcus had stormed from the room, he could almost laugh bitterly at his luck, the one women he wanted to bare his child more than anything in the world had yet to conceive, but the women he despised just because of her existence managed to conceive due to a cold, heartless union.

Life was cruel.

He needed to get away, he needed his solace. So naturally he rode straight to her.

Unfortunately, his father was at the castle so he had to wait till his departure before he could finally embrace her.

He knew his father knew of their affair, but like many things since his mothers death, his father seemed not to care.

Marcus knew his love would hate how he treated Maryann but he couldn't help the way he felt, he couldn't describe it, he needed someone to blame for the cruelty of fate and she was the number one candidate.

She had smiled and embraced him, before giving him a impish smile. He would never forget the happiness he had felt when he had heard she was pregnant.

He had lifted her off the ground and swung her around. He had kissed her senseless, made love to her and laid against her belly whispering to their child growing within.

Whenever they made love from that day on he would coat her growing belly with tender kisses.

Their baby, at last!


	5. Pain

**Marcus**

**...My Forgotten Love...**

Chapter Five

Marcus wished fate could have been kind to him and allowed him to keep his piece of heaven, but like everything else in his life, it was ripped from him.

She had gone into labour two months early.

No one had contacted him.

His father had sent no messenger.

His love had died alone. Without him.

The utter rage and despair that had gripped him could not be described. They had been forced to remove Maryann for her own safety as more than once in the days following that fateful night he had tried to beat her.

He had just wanted the pain to stop.

He couldn't live.

At first he had felt panic and fear, then sadness, then rage, then nothing.

He fell into a sort of numbness that must only come when you fully comprehend your heart and soul are gone.

He would sit in front of the fire they had often made love in front of, clutching her gown which still had her scent upon it and weep.

He lost count of the number of his acquaintances who had seen him holding her gowns to his face and crying as if his heart was being ripped out at that moment.

After the tears, had come the rage.

Bitter, twisting rage.

He hated his father, he hated Maryann, he hated them all.

Every time he had seen Maryann large with his child he would snap and need to be restrained.

"I don't want it!!" he would yell, he didn't want her. Why did that babe thrive?

His lost baby had not been one, but two. Twins. Like William and he had been.

He saw the doctor loading the coffins onto the carriage.

Three. Two small wooden ones, no bigger than a foot. And hers...

He had even grown angry at himself for a while.

He had hated himself for ever touching her, for ever wanting their baby. His selfish love had taken from him everything.

His love had been buried with no ceremony, and a simple grave stone. His sons had received neither, he knew not what had happened with their tiny bodies or where they lay now.

He hoped close to their mother. She would have liked that.

His feelings from that time were still fresh, still aching.

He knew he could never love Maryann. He doubted he could fully accept his son, but he had tried with his son, Nicolae. His love would have hated him if he neglected his son as he had once been by his father.

He spent time with the child occasionally, but he found the boy too spoiled by his mother.

In true Van Keen fashion everything was over the top and lavish with them.

He once again realised he would have given up everything and anything to have her instead.

Since then he had begun raising an army of vampires to help him bring his brother back to him, after he had escaped.

His brother was the only thing left he loved.

Marcus began his meditation for his slumber till his awakening. His final thought was of her.

His love.

His love who no one knew anymore.

Who's name was no longer known, and was forgotten.

_Grace._


End file.
